AVERAGE WILDER NIGHT GARDEN                                                                               by Mark Head

Ssh. Listen!
Hear the soft satisfied hiss of night creatures
Who conversurinally water dark walls of trees with latrinevine features

Slowly peer into the gloomtree high
In whose smotherleaf violet dark halls
Dwell aces and eights coloured forms
Upside but downy fur creatures of foci
Whose quick squeaking long
Gives their general health
And fruit swinging loci
To hang place squeeseeking friends.

Down there by the glade
What looms there green dark and gnarly
And sullen with stiffness and age?
Why, it’s Treetears who shivers and snarly
For the possums play possum and tag
They suckle unsuckle her shadowed branch bosoms
Raise rustle leaf hustles her shadows,
Old Treetears maid auncient rheumbony
Is envious of ‘Timber!’ quick limbs.

In the far shadows the monsters
Wave delicious long swan gaggled stems
Who raise green veined frond wings
To keep moon’s light and dew
From hunters tooth slicer slash horny
Those rutters of dear fenceless forms
Alive with tiger eye eyes.

To the left of the dark’s the harsh space
The neon lit lair of some beast
Which to creatures of night is well kept caged
By a diamond dress hitched to one side clewed to corselet straight nightsticks of pipe,
That keeps cement death back swept unwept over
Dead to life’s trills and scuffle dark sounds
But laughed at by ghostlets of night
Who nightling wingscoop cream icy still air
Toowoop by twitscoop over starklighted pipe
Or deposit deposits fencetop
With Cheshirical catowly air.


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